Big Bobo

The truth

In the living room, Maverick and Giovanni, an apparently smooth boy in a sharp suit, stood in front of the large white couch. They laughed together and talked as if they were good friends. Giovanni didn't like to sit. It wrinkled his pants and besides, many couches were bad for his back. Business was going well, he reported. New boys arrived almost every day. Not just refugees. They were mainly boys from the city, who wanted to earn more than what they get as a shelf filler in the supermarket. He smiled showing his white teeth. In the past, no one wanted to be a prostitute. It had a bad name and everyone was afraid of being recognized. Now the business is booming and he could even turn away the ugly guys. Maverick walked to a glass case and took out two champagne glasses.

'I heard from Steven that you have a Surinamese boy. Solidly built and smart'.

"He is sturdy," Giovanni replied.
'Not just fat, there's also muscle underneath. He's a powerful boy. Appears to have been living here on the street for a while. He has no parents or anyone to care for him. Nice and easy. Smart, I don't know yet. He will undoubtedly be smarter than Bobo. His cock is bigger too."

Maverick shook his head. He didn't care about the size of a cock. Although Giovanni was convinced that he too was gay, Maverick knew better. No, he couldn't do anything with a cock other than his own.
"When can I see him?" he asked as he walked into the kitchen and took a bottle of champagne from the refrigerator.

"Tomorrow night is possible," said Giovanni.
"But first make sure you make room for him. Two of my boys in one house, I can't allow that. They will soon start conspiring against me."

Maverick nodded in agreement. Bobo must have left the house before the other one came. He filled the two champagne glasses and the two toasted to another pleasant collaboration. With a bit of luck, Bobo didn't survive the night and he already got rid of him. But this was not to be. The glasses were half empty when Bobo suddenly appeared in the living room. He looked good for someone who thought he was going to die from a food overdose the night before. His stomach was still swollen, but a lot less than last night. His belly bulged out a little from the shirt that was too small and the sweatpants he was wearing were tight. Fortunately he was able to move again. That was the most important thing to him. Giovanni complimented him on his performance the night before, which Maverick had told him about, and smiled sultrily. Bobo was silent. Giovanni was no longer his best friend, he could see that now. Although Maverick signaled to Bobo with head movements that he had to go, Bobo remained standing. It was clear he wanted to speak to Maverick, who ignored him and tried to start a conversation with Giovanni. The tension rose and Giovanni drank the remainder of the champagne in his glass in one gulp. He had decided to go. The agreements with Maverick had been made and he had no desire to sit between the two arguing guys. Maverick walked with him to the front door.

"Stupid nigger!" Bobo heard him say.

Giovanni just chuckled.

It took a while for Maverick to come back. Just when Bobo started to think he had left the villa with Giovanni, he reappeared. Bobo was still standing at the couch. For the first time in months he didn't feel like eating breakfast. With a piercing gaze he followed Maverick, who sat down casually on the couch and took a sip of champagne. There was a moment of silence as the guys looked at each other.

"If I tell you to go, then you have to...!"

Maverick was interrupted by Bobo, who stood over him menacingly with his hands on his hips.

"What was that yesterday?" he asked with a harsh tone and anger in his eyes.

Startled by this outburst, Maverick almost dropped his champagne glass on the floor. He had never seen Bobo angry before and knew he had to change the situation quickly. He didn't want to be contradicted in his own home, especially not in such a harsh tone. For a moment he wondered why he hadn't hit Bobo hard on the stomach last night. Then his stomach would certainly have burst and he would have gotten rid of the misery.

"You ate way too much again yesterday, that's what happened," Maverick replied as coldly as he could.
He was angry too. It had taken him most of the night to get the basement clean. Steven had helped briefly, but the pungent stench had caused him to quickly leave.
"You shit on everyone!"

'Yes, because I was tied to a chair and was fed more and more food. And I wasn't feeling well yesterday."
Irritated, he watched as Maverick drank his champagne with an arrogant attitude. As if he didn't care about what Bobo had to say.
'What did you actually mean by; he doesn't have to survive?"

Maverick sighed. Did that idiot really not realize anything?

"I want you to go," he said.
'I don't like living here with you anymore. To hang out with you."

Bobo looked at him in surprise. He had not expected this reaction. What had he done wrong? Dozens of questions ran through his mind, but none left his mouth.
"Where... where should I go?" was all he could say.

Maverick drank the bottom of his glass and walked to the kitchen.
'I do not know. What I do know is that you can't go back to that whorehouse where you came from, with that fat body of yours.'

Bobo didn't know what he heard. How could Maverick just throw him out of the house? He was too proud to beg to stay and he knew there was no point in talking any further, so he left the living room to prepare for his departure.